


every small disaster

by kadma



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, First Dates, Hangover, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 09:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13050825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadma/pseuds/kadma
Summary: SABRINA:OMG just realized its our first real date xxWritten forYuletide 2017.





	every small disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eloboosting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloboosting/gifts).



Though they kiss at midnight and drink too many mimosas and dance with each other until their feet ache, both Amy and Sabrina awake the next morning with matching anxieties.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Karma sips her steaming mug of coffee and grins at Amy. The lights are too bright but it’s more than just Amy’s killer hangover. She smiles to herself, tuning out Karma’s chatter and reminiscing on the magic of the previous night. Sabrina in that stunning cocktail dress. Sabrina’s heartfelt confession. Sabrina’s dangerously smooth kiss at midnight. Sabrina’s two left feet--

“And Felix is not _great_ at kissing,” Karma whispers conspiratorially. “But with practice, I’ll see what I can do about it.”

Amy wipes the sleep from her eyes.

“You and... Felix?”

Karma’s smile looks more like a grimace.

“You said you were cool with it last night. But last night, you also laughed at the phrase _hors d’ouvres_ for a full minute, so...”

Amy clutches her head.

“I do not remember that. And _ugh._ ”

“What?”

“My reputation for having a sophisticated and witty sense of humour is now forever tarnished.”

Karma chucks a cushion at her from the end of the bed, smacking Amy in the face.

“So, are you cool with it?” Karma’s face grows serious for a moment. She picks at the edge of her halter top with one hand, lolling the empty mug by its handle in the other. “I mean, it’s not gonna be weird for you, is it? If it is, I can--”

“Shh,” sighs Amy, sinking back onto the bed. “It’s okay. It’s okay ‘cause you’re my best friend and I love you and I want you to be happy.”

Karma’s grin is wide with relief; she hugs Amy tightly. “You’re good to me even when I don’t deserve it.”

Amy snickers. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, can you get me some tea?” She pats around the bedside table, frowning. “And where’s my phone?”

“Oh. That.” Karma shrugs and darts out of the room. “Tea first, talk later.”

Amy knows Karma too well to lie back down. But the speed at which she leaps out of bed is dizzying; she’s slow to move, and by the time she makes it to the doorway, Karma’s bounding steps almost make her wish she’d stay down. Almost, because a dismissive Karma means a scheming Karma, and though she means well, even the best laid plans of Karma (and likely, Shane) often go awry.

Karma links their arms and drags Amy downstairs.

“You want the good news first, or the not quite as good, but still pretty cool news?”

Amy props up her chin with a closed hand and sniffs. The kitchen smells oddly bland and bare, despite the wilting decorations on the walls and the plates of foil-covered leftovers on the table. She catches sight of the clock: quarter-past ten, meaning Farrah is at work already.

“Not as good news first.” Amy can’t keep the exhaustion from her voice: she goes for cautious, ready to reprimand, and it comes out like a toad with a head cold.

Karma pulls up a chair beside her.

“You’re out of black tea. The only kind left is chamomile, and I know you hate it, so...”

“So?”

“Get dressed and I’ll drive you. Let’s go out for breakfast.”

“Karma, you’re being sweet and kind of weird, and I’m too tired to figure out what’s going on. I just wanna watch _Desperate Housewives_ re-runs with my best friend and maybe take a nap. Let’s just order pizza for breakfast.”

Karma ducks under the table, reaching for something. She unplugs the phone and passes it to Amy.

“No can do,” she says, sheepishly.

Amy looks at the flirty barrage of texts she does _not_ remember sending. She looks at Karma, who’s fiddling with her keys.

“Did you--”

“Oh, no! Well... Just the last few.”

> **SABRINA:** ily nerd xo  
>  **SABRINA:** thx 4 hearin me out i had a blast w/ u  
>  **SABRINA:** lov u bb amy  
>  **AMY:** mornin’ sleepyhead! you sobered up yet?  
>  **SABRINA:** rrrrrr nope my head hurts  
>  **AMY:**  me too, so let’s get coffee at...  
>  **SABRINA:** ??? no surprises plz  
>  **AMY:** ...a coffee place  >:D  
>  **SABRINA:** kk see u at 11am usual place  
>  **SABRINA:** OMG just realized its our first real date xx

Amy glares at Karma. Sabrina’s excitement nearly makes up for Karma’s meddling, but Amy’s not in a forgiving mood after the slew of surprises this morning.

“It’s good news...” beams Karma. “Right?”

“I am too hungover for all this--”

“Quit complaining, and just c’mon.”

* * *

Karma bundles her up in a girly scarf and a pair of shades she hasn’t worn in years, and manhandles her into the car. It takes everything Amy has not to fall asleep to the rocking motion. But her annoyance at Karma’s need to interfere in her love life and the palm sweats of thinking about Sabrina and a date, and a real first date with Sabrina. It’s kind of silly, really; she’s spent so much time with Sabrina since she transferred, as friends and more-than-friends, and they’ve done all sorts of things together. Now, though, since she knows Sabrina’s feelings are genuine, this whole thing feels more important, more real.

Karma bops Amy's nose and smiles.

“Go get ‘er, tiger.”

“I’m gonna get you back for this. You and Felix. Matching fluorescent ugly sweaters and a gift card to the Cheesecake Factory. Merry early Christmas.”

“Go go! I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours.”

Karma waves goodbye and drifts away. Amy doesn’t get a moment to stay mad, because among the students and their laptops and the divine smell of coffee, Sabrina sits near the windows at a modest two-seat table. One hand twirls a lock of hair absently whilst she gazes through the glass pane. The way the afternoon sun splits her face into light and shadow makes her look familiar again; Amy’s brought back to the play of the moonlight through the dorm blinds, splitting a younger Sabrina’s face, illuminating her rapidly moving lips as she relays a camp-renowned horror story after lights out.

Amy smiles softly.

“Hello, stranger,” she says. Sabrina starts, then fixes her with a warm smile.

“You look like hell. Still unfairly gorgeous, but in a hellish way.”

“And you look...” Sabrina’s hair rests in a loose braid and she’s wearing a green plaid shirt and skin-tight jeans. Though her face is bare of make-up, she seems to glow with vitality; the only indication of a night of drink and dance are the faint bags under her eyes, revealing a lack of sleep. “Awake. And pretty.”

Sabrina smiles shyly, looking down at her hands. “I ordered for us both. A black tea and an Americano, on the way.”

“Thanks.”

There’s a brief pause; the hubbub of the cafe fills the space between them, but Amy’s throbbing temple and dry mouth make her want to tell Sabrina everything, reschedule, and just leave. This is their first real date: Amy wishes it could be special. Not all candlelit dinners and walks on the beach, but she wants to be present and awake, she wants to try and talk to Sabrina and flirt with Sabrina and kiss Sabrina some more. She wants to leave Sabrina feeling warm and fuzzy; she wants to feel proud of herself for taking her girlfriend out on a fun date.

“Earth to Amy? You in there?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” Amy shakes her head. “I don’t do hangovers, so I don’t know how to deal with them.”

Sabrina’s laugh brings a smile back to Amy’s face.

“I can tell.” She reaches across the table, placing her hands on top of Amy’s, so that she can feel the tremble in those fingers and the steady rhythm of her pulse. “If you’re not up for this right now, we can always try again another time. Without the ghost of last night’s mimosas as the third wheel.”

“Or Karma’s meddling,” says Amy, rolling her eyes. Sabrina shoots her a look of curiosity. “She means well, trying to get us on a real date, but she texted you this morning when I was asleep and scheduled this.”

“Oh. That’s why you sounded weirdly energetic. Because if there’s one thing about you, Amy Raudenfeld, that hasn’t changed since camp, it’s that your endearing hatred of and grumpiness around mornings.”

Amy glowers at Sabrina, who chuckles to herself.

The barista places two mugs of black beverages before them. Amy reaches for her wallet, but Sabrina catches her wrist.

“Nuh-huh. My treat.”

Amy looks into Sabrina’s dark, earnest eyes.

“Fine. Next date’s on me, then.”

Sabrina nods. “Remind me to order the caviar and champagne.”

“Har har.”

Amy curls her fingers around the mug, blowing on the surface and sipping gently. She sneaks glances at Sabrina over the rim, who appears to be doing the same; their eyes meet and they both look away. This shyness around Sabrina, of all people, feels unreal.

“I’m sorry I’m not, you know...”

“Hm?”

“I kinda feel like this date isn’t gonna go as well as I want it to. It’s our first real date and I can barely keep my eyes open. And it’s not because I don’t care about you, because I do, so much, and that’s why it’s bothering me.” Amy keeps her vision on the swirling black liquid in her mug. She can feel Sabrina’s eyes on her, so she keeps going. “And since this is our first real date, we won’t have another real first date.”

“Actually,” says Sabrina, brightly, “this is a perfect first date.”

“What?”

“First dates are awkward and uncomfortable and messy. And it’s funny, because we know each other so well, we kinda skipped all that. We’re comfortable around each other. We don’t have that... hesitance. Well, not without hangovers and pressures we put on ourselves to make this dating thing go perfectly.”

“It’s still too early for philosophy, but I appreciate you trying to make me feel less crappy.”

“That’s just the tea doing its job,” laughs Sabrina.

Amy looks up at Sabrina, who catches her eye and winks. It’s a wink more friendly than flirty, a soft reassurance that no matter how much their relationship shifts and grows, they’ll be okay, because they’ve got their senses of humour. Maybe they get along so well because they’re learning not to take themselves too seriously.

“So,” says Amy, casually trying to ignore the warming of her cheeks, “did you hear about the other big news from the party? Hashtag Booper?”


End file.
